“Damn!” he swore.
Matters had been bad enough before Persia had presented herself this morning. Her kisses, the honeyed taste of her breasts, even her anger had aroused him. If only honor hadn’t chosen that very moment to rear its bothersome head!
He got up and dashed his face with icy water from the ironstone pitcher on the washstand, shivering at the shock. The fire in the grate had gone out during the night and the room was cold. Distractedly, he poked at the few glowing embers. The thought came to mind that their deep-burning glow was the color of Persia’s hair in bright sunlight.
“Persia, Persia,” he murmured, tossing his head back to stare at the gray ceiling. “What am I going to do about us?”
He could, of course, take the coward’s way out—leave the whole mess behind and leave Quoddy Cove forever. The thought was suddenly appealing. No doubts. No worries. Just take off and ship out as quickly as possible. Yes! That was what he’d do! Damned if he needed two women fighting over him!
So resolved, he dressed quickly and shoved the remainder of his belongings into his duffelbag. He went to the shaving stand to collect his toilet articles. That would do it. Then he could go.
But standing there in front of the mirror, he caught sight of his own accusing eyes staring at him. Something clutched in his guts. He was no coward! And Persia Whiddington… sweet, innocent Persia… didn’t deserve such treatment from any man.
He shied away from the dark blaze of his eyes in the glass. Who was he trying to fool? It wasn’t for Persia that he must stay. It was for himself. He loved her. He wanted her. And he meant to have her! But he couldn’t wait all day to untangle this mess. He would go to the Whiddington house now and straighten out the misunderstanding. This very minute!
As he dashed past the front desk, the innkeeper said, “My congratulations, Mr. Hazzard! When’s the wedding to be?”
He never looked at the man but called out in answer, “As soon as I settle the question of which sister I’m to marry!”
He didn’t see the man’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he slammed out the door into the snowy morning.
The distance between Tavern Hill and Gay Street took Zack only minutes to cover. The wind caught his coat and whipped it like a scarlet sail as he mounted the steps to the front door of the Whiddington residence. He had not yet pounded the knocker when the door opened to him.
“Why, Zachariah! You’re hours early. But never mind. We’ll have some time together this way.”
The woman before him looked enchanting, her heart- shaped face glowing like shell pearl inside the ebony frame of her hair. The scent of summer’s first roses emanated from the folds of her lace-jaboted bosom, and her hand felt like warm silk as it touched his almost shyly.
“Europa, I’m here to see your father.” His tone was all business, never mind roses and soft, scented flesh.
“Oh!” She sounded disappointed and taken aback. “I naturally assumed, under the circumstances, that you’d come to see me.”
“Those circumstances are exactly what I must speak to your father about.”
She offered him such an apologetic and alluring smile that some of the stiffness melted from his body.
“I’m sorry, but Father is meeting with some other investors down at the docks this morning. Some tiresome business about buying an ice ship, I believe. Mother’s in quite a state over the whole matter. She can’t see and neither can I how anyone can do other than lose a fortune by trying to transport ice to hot climates.”
Europa’s whole speech was accompanied by a fluttering of eyelashes and lace ruffles. She continued stroking the back of Zack’s hand while she spoke. By the time she finished and took a gasping little breath, she had Zack under her spell.
“There’s a fortune to be made in ice, Europa. Hasn’t your father ever explained the business to you?”
She smiled sweetly. “Oh, he’s tried. But my poor brain is filled with feathers, I’m afraid, when it comes to business. Perhaps if you told me all about it, I would understand.”
“Of course, if you like.”
They were still standing in the open doorway. Europa glanced back down the hall to make sure no one was about before she opened the door wide for him to enter. She was safe. Her father wouldn’t be back for hours. Her mother was upstairs lying down. And Fletcher was in the back of the house helping the cook get everything ready for their special dinner. As for Persia, Europa had no idea where she might be. She hadn’t yet come back from her walk. But should she happen in on them, that would be perfectly all right. Persia would have to get used to seeing them together… for the rest of her life.
“Do come in, Zack. You must be freezing.”
Europa showed him to the parlor across the hall from her father’s study. She had been in there since breakfast, poring over fashion books, trying to decide which wedding gown would best suit her. The walls were a rosy hue, enhanced by the cheery light of the fire. As the captain’s study was a man’s room, so the parlor was decorated to suit a lady’s tastes with its pastel brocades and gilt-framed watercolors of flowers and birds in delicate tints.
“Come sit here beside me. It seems we have a lot to talk about, darling.” She said the word pointedly, to let him know she knew.
Zack tried to keep his distance on the cramped love seat, but there was not that much space and Europa seemed set on intimate contact.
“We do have a lot to talk about. You’re right. There has been a mistake. That’s why I’m here. I hope you’ll understand, Europa.”
She turned to him, her eyes fairly gleaming, and cradled his cold cheeks in her soft palms. “Darling, the only mistake was in my thinking that I could ever marry a man like Seton Holloway. You are the one I want… the one I’m going to marry. I knew the night at the pond that you were only playing up to Persia to get to me. Then when you risked your life to save me, why, I would have agreed to marry you that very evening!” She looked up at him shyly, peeking through her lashes. “The way you held me in your arms as you carried me… the way you kissed me later when we were alone. I could tell you wanted me, Zack, just as much as I wanted you.”
He was tempted to point out to her that she was half-frozen and nearly drowned when he took her in his arms and that she had kissed him, not the other way around. But the gentleman somewhere deep down inside refused to allow him to be so blunt with her.
“Well, it all paid off, my dearest,” she continued. “You have me now, and we’re quite alone. Let’s not waste our time on needless chatter. You may kiss me.”
“Europa…” he began, but her lips pressed his, sealing off his protests.
He sat still and unresponsive for a time, willing himself not to be aroused by the pressure of her lips, the scents of roses and female flesh filling his nostrils, or even the warmth of her breasts against his chest. But when her hand found his thigh and worked its way to the throbbing crotch of his trousers, he had no will to fight her. His arms came up, drawing her harder against him. She parted her lips, inviting him to enter. Still maintaining some willpower, he refused. It was no use. An instant later, her velvety tongue was gliding over his lips, parting them, seeking what she longed for.
Summoning more strength than he thought he possessed, Zack pulled back. “No, Europa! This isn’t right!”
Her eyes were veiled by half-closed lids. Her lips, still parted, looked red, puffy, and inviting. While he watched, one of her slender hands went to her throat, unbuttoning the lace with slow, seductive ease. Soon Zack found himself staring at the deep, satiny valley between her firm breasts. She reached for his hand and pressed his palm against her chest.
“This isn’t right, Zack darling?” she said in a husky voice. “Then you show me what is.”
He groaned deep in his throat and allowed his hand to be guided from the valley to the soft mountain peak just beyond. Europa murmured a sigh and leaned into him, increasing the pressure on her breast.
“My d
arling,” she gasped, tearing at her bodice to bare more of herself to him. “Oh, I know how you’ve wanted me! You’ve been dreaming of this moment since you first saw me. And I knew even then that someday you would take me. It was there in your eyes, even as it is this very moment.”
Suddenly, she was like a female animal in heat—clutching at him, begging him, offering to allow him to take unspeakable liberties with her body. Quite frankly, he was shocked. Drawing away, he caught her by the shoulders and shook her roughly.
“Europa, what’s come over you? What do you think you’re doing? I didn’t come here for this. I came to tell you that there was a mistake made last night. I asked your father for Persia’s hand, not yours. You’re a beautiful, desirable woman, but it’s your sister I love.”
If she had reminded him of an animal before, the effect now was even more startling. Her eyes narrowed. Her breath escaped with a hissing sound. Her teeth were clenched in rage.
He was still clutching her shoulders, trying to keep her away from him, when the door to the parlor opened. His hands dropped away from her and he stood up abruptly. But not before Persia, her face drained of all color, saw them huddled on the love seat together with Europa’s bodice gaping wide in invitation.
“Persia, wait! It’s not what you’re thinking!” He charged after her, but she was already out of the house and racing down the icy walk.
“Please darling!” he shouted. “Let me explain.”
She didn’t answer, only ran faster and faster, finally darting off the road into a stand of evergreens. Therein lay the undoing of her flight. The deeper snow in the woods slowed her pace. And instead of losing Zack in the maze of trees, she left a deep trail for him to follow.
When he caught up with her and grabbed her from behind, she screamed. The piercing sound dislodged a wet clump of snow from a branch overhead, showering them both with its white coldness. Persia fought him with every ounce of strength she had—pounding his chest, kicking and biting. But Zack would not release her.
Finally, tripping over a log, Persia fell backward, toppling Zack with her. On her back, pressed deep into the soft snow, she could no longer resist him. His weight held her to the spot where she had fallen. One ironlike hand gripped her wrists so that she couldn’t claw his face. She could only lie there, gasping and sobbing, wanting nothing so much as to be far, far away, hidden from his probing gaze and his lying tongue forever. But even as she tried to shrug away, his mouth came down and took hers with a force of passion she had never known. It was as if he were putting his brand on her for all time—letting her know that he would do as he damn well pleased and she could like it or go to hell.
But following close on the heels of his near brutal kiss, his words to her were surprisingly gentle. “Persia, please, don’t fight me. Listen to me. I love you!”
She ceased struggling, but the hard lines of anguish in her face did not soften.
“I don’t believe you.” Her words were as lifeless as if they had been spoken from the grave.
“You must!. What you saw back there at the house means nothing, I tell you.”
“Nothing? Then I suppose what you’re saying is that if someone had walked in on the two of us this morning while I lay half-naked in your embrace in your bed, that would also have meant nothing!”
“No, no, no!” He shook his head furiously. “That’s not what I mean at all. There is nothing between your sister and me. I love you and only you. And I intend to marry you.”
She still refused to be convinced. “Oh, I understand now. Zachariah Hazzard doesn’t have to love a woman to undress her and take liberties with her. He is above such plebeian codes of morality. He is free to do what he will with any woman—his fiancee, his fiancee’s sister, or any other female in any port of the world,” she said sarcastically.
Even though he was plainly in the wrong and realized that Persia had a right to her anger, her words wounded him deeply. He was new at being in love and he’d managed it badly. But even ignorance and stupidity shouldn’t be dealt with so harshly. Once, as a new seaman, he had been tied to the mast and flogged for insubordination, receiving the usual ten lashes with a cat- o’-nine-tails. On occasion in his most terrible nightmares, he still relived that burning, flesh-rending, bone-deep pain. But even that paled before the anguish of the punishment Persia was inflicting.
Still, there must be some way to make her forgive him. Zack knew his only convincing defense would be to accuse Europa of the seduction, but he had never been one to hide behind a woman’s skirts. If Persia truly loved him, she would have to believe him and forgive. If she didn’t, well…
Releasing his hold on her wrists, he rose from her and offered a hand to help her up. She eyed him suspiciously.
“You’ll freeze lying there in the snow,” he said matter-of-factly. “Get up.”
She took his hand warily. When she was standing upright, Zack turned and started walking away.
She watched him go for a time before she cried out, “Wait!”
He turned back toward her but didn’t speak. His face looked exactly like the fierce, carved figurehead of Neptune she had seen once on a ship’s prow. She waited for him to say something until it became apparent that he would waste no more words on her.
“Where are you going, Zack?”
“Boston.”
Her heart sank as she asked in a trembling voice, “When?”
“As soon as possible. This evening, I would imagine. I’m out of money, but I have a gold watch I can sell to settle up my bill at Jefferd’s and to hire a sleigh and team.”
In her present agitated state, Persia didn’t remember that the innkeeper had told her Zack was a rich man.
“Zack?”
“Yes?” His voice was as stony as his face.
“Did you really mean it… what you said?”
“Mean what, Persia?” As much as he longed to, he couldn’t allow himself to make this easy for her. If he softened now, all would be lost.
“About loving me, wanting to marry me?”
“If you have to ask, then maybe I shouldn’t marry you.”
He might as well have been in a high-stakes poker game. His heart was thundering. His arms were aching to hold her. Words of love were fighting to get past his tight lips. But he must hold his tongue and breast his cards. He’d tried reasoning with her; it hadn’t worked. Now he must stick to his bluff, play his cards as if he couldn’t care less whether he won her or lost her. Make her come to him. That was the only way.
She looked down at the toes of her boots, sunken deep into the snow. “You mean you’d still consider it?”
A long, unnerving silence followed before he answered, “I might. But there would be conditions.”
His words tore at her tender heart. Conditions! She knew what that meant. He was about to tell her that even if he married her, there would be other women and she must resign herself to that fact or else. Could she live with that? She looked up at him suddenly, and her eyes filled with tears. She would have to live with his conditions because she certainly couldn’t live without him.
“I understand.” A tearful whisper was all she could manage. “May I ask one favor?”
His own heart was breaking as he stared at the misery in her eyes, misery that he had put there. “Ask.”
“Just don’t ever tell me about your other women. Let me imagine that I’m the only one.”
He could take no more. He rushed to Persia and swept her into his arms, kissing the tears from her cheeks, hugging the breath from her body, crooning her name over and over. When he set her on her feet once more, he cupped her cold face in his hands and kissed her lips very gently.
“Oh, Persia my love, I’ll never tell you about any other women because there won’t be any others. Not ever! How could I look at anyone else with you as my wife?”
“Zack darling,” she sobbed. “Hold me. Please hold me. Don’t ever let me go!”
Wa
lking back to town hand in hand, they made their plans swiftly but carefully. They would have to play a painful charade until Persia’s family was sleeping that night. There was no way either of them could get out of the “engagement dinner” without arousing suspicion. Afterward, when all was quiet, Persia would slip out to meet Zack. He would be waiting outside for her with the hired sleigh to speed away to Boston. Once they were far away and safe, they would be married.
It all sounded so simple. But Persia found herself cringing with pain that evening as her father toasted the happy couple—Zack and Europa. There was talk of the wedding plans. As Persia had supposed she would, her mother had already met with Reverend Osgood to set a date. Europa had sketched the gown she wanted. And, as an added surprise, Captain Whiddington had struck a deal that day with Frederick Tudor, New England’s first and foremost ice merchant. He and Tudor, along with two other investors, were having a new ice ship built.
A beaming Asa Whiddington raised his glass of port to his prospective son-in-law. “I’d like to drink a toast to her new captain—Zachariah Hazzard.”
A twitter went round the table.
“Oh, it won’t be right away, mind you. The ship will be several years in the building with finances and supplies what they are. But someday, mark my words, Captain Zachariah Hazzard will sail her to Bombay and back!”
Persia was careful not to let Europa get Zack alone all evening. When her sister urged Zack outside to view the rising moon now that the snow had stopped falling, Persia trotted along, chattering nervously all the way. When Europa lured him into the parlor to look at sketches of her wedding ensemble, Zack’s true intended scurried in to see for herself and to offer her unwanted comments.
Still, there was nothing Persia could do about the good-night kiss. She was sent off to bed, followed immediately by her mother and father, so that Europa and Zack could be left alone in the hallway for a few intimate words.
Hot Winds From Bombay Page 13